


9/11

by spockside



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath, Backstory, Friendship, Gen, Road Trips, September 11 Attacks, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockside/pseuds/spockside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper Potts had only been working for Tony Stark six months when she found herself running away from the destruction of the World Trade Center.</p><p>Originally published on LJ and Fanfiction.Net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tuesday, September 11, 2001 - New York City

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: My apologies up front to anyone who lived through the WTC disaster. If it hurts to read about it, please move on to something else. Also, please forgive any inaccuracies as to the geography and transportation of the city of New York, as I have not been there lately.

Chapter 1: Tuesday, September 11, 2001 - New York City  
  
Amidst the screaming and sobbing, a swell of noise came like a wave against Pepper's ears and she turned toward it as she stumbled. There was a clump of people that had been huddling nearby, which now broke apart, its members staggering past her heedlessly. Their keening overwhelmed her for a moment and then receded; she grabbed the arm of one of the last and croaked out, "What? What was it?"  
  
"No, no!" It was a man, tall, with a bloodied face and covered in bits of gravel and what looked like soot. "I can't! I can't look!" He yanked out of her grasp and lumbered away from the central hell they were all escaping from.  
  
Pepper dragged the sleeve of her blouse over her eyes; she'd taken off her jacket in order to use the clean blouse for this purpose, but by now it was also a mess. She blinked and tried to focus in the direction the man had been facing and saw - lumps of people and vehicles and structures, smoke and dust, the flaming hulk from which she had miraculously been spared - and debris falling from it -  
  
Not debris. A body. Someone was throwing a body off the tower?  
  
Then she cried out, choking, as she realized what was happening. Trapped by the inferno, probably unable to evacuate, someone had opted to take their life in their own hands and to end it their own way, flinging themselves into the void, hoping for a quicker death than asphyxiation or immolation or worse. Pepper felt heat on her cheeks as tears sprang up and poured down her face. She swayed for a moment and then crumpled down to sit on the curb, or perhaps a wall. She had made it this far but had hit her limit, physically and now mentally. Pulling her jacket back on, she wrapped her arms around herself and sat. And sat.  
  
People moved past her resting place, always in the same direction, some silent, some weeping or talking, a few shouting hopelessly into cell phones. Some had arms wrapped around an injured companion, and one or two were actually carrying someone. Pepper had lost her purse in the initial stampede, in spite of the stranglehold she usually kept on it when visiting New York City, and it had had her phone and wallet and everything else in it; she had only the clothes and shoes she wore. No phone, no money, no way to get hold of Mr. Stark. Even if she knew where he was.  
  
He was *supposed* to be with Donald Trump; he'd told her to take the day off, do some sightseeing. Mr. Trump's driver would come pick him up and he'd be back this evening - maybe. Pepper was starting to figure out what that meant: Mr. Stark would spend the day amusing himself in ways that he thought would shock Miss Potts, and these ways might last well into the night. Pepper knew where Trump Tower was, but there was no guarantee Mr. Stark would be there, and as things stood just now she would have to walk there. Half the population of New York City was running away from the scene of the devastation and the other half was coming toward it, searching for loved ones or rushing to help.  
  
Pepper sank her head into her hands. "I'm alive," she muttered. "I'm alive." She could start with that. She stared down at the filthy shoes that passed for walking pumps in her wardrobe - not as high as she usually wore - and said it again. "I'm alive."  
  
Where had her employer been when This Thing happened? She had left the hotel bright and early - eight o'clock - and she knew by now that, although when working on something brilliant he'd wake early or stay up all night, he preferred sleeping in until at least ten. How far was the hotel from the towers? How far away had she been, when the blast occurred? Where the hell was she now? She felt numb, frozen to the spot.  
  
Suddenly the ground began to vibrate, increasing in intensity, and Pepper simultaneously rolled herself into a ball on her perch and peered over her arms to find the source of the rumbling. It was coming from the hell behind her, but all she could see was a wave, a billow, a tsunami of smoke and dust. She covered her head and waited for the blast wave that never came. The wind that passed was strong but short-lived, and she could smell a change in the air she was trying to breathe. It seemed thicker and dirtier.  
  
The near-silence that followed the wind was almost as frightening - or perhaps her ears were full of dust. Fearfully she opened one eye and shut it again immediately. The dust had turned into a thick cloud, drifting over the streets so that she could not even see the other side. Whatever had happened, it wasn't over yet. She sat where she was for ages, occasionally hearing footsteps or muffled voices, and finally she had to move or fall asleep from anxiety and exhaustion.  
  
Her legs held up well enough; she kept one arm over her eyes, opening them only far enough to get a glimpse of the terrain before her. Nothing but concrete and asphalt, and yellow lane markings, and the occasional island. She hoped she was moving toward Central Park and Trump Tower. The clumps of people started to thin out. She heard the sound of distant vehicles, sirens. She kept plodding, her arm got tired and fell to her side, her feet went numb, and still she kept moving, like a zombie.  
  
"Potts!"  
  
She didn't even recognize her own name, a man's voice almost howling the single syllable, somewhere off to her left.  
  
"Potts! Is that you?"  
  
It couldn't be anyone she knew; she didn't know anyone in New York City except Tony Stark. She stopped suddenly and raised her head, strained her ears, and through the cloud she heard it again.  
  
"Potts! Pepper Potts! Stay right there, don't move!"  
  
That was easy. She could do that. The voice called out at intervals, muffled by the dust and something else, and then suddenly a dark figure emerged ten feet in front of her, hurtling at her, and she screamed and flung her arms up over her head. The figure stopped cold and reached an arm toward her, then approached more slowly.  
  
"Pepper, it's me. It's Tony. Tony Stark."  
  
She could barely make out his face through her clouded eyes; she peered at him and he took her shoulders and pulled her right up until he was inches away and she could see the fear in his eyes.  
  
"Mr. - Mr. Stark," she said hoarsely and fell into him. His arms held her up and dragged her in another direction as he babbled into her ear.  
  
"It's gonna be okay, Pepper, you're okay, right? Nothing broken? Come on, just a little further - come on, over here, this way - it's gonna be all right, I promise."  
  
She found herself sitting on grass, the softest grass she'd ever felt, and her escort left her briefly and came back with a bottle of water and a large handkerchief; at first he dampened the hanky and tried to wipe her face, the he just tipped up her chin, said, "Close your eyes," and poured what felt like the entire bottle over her head. He produced another hanky and wiped her eyes with it carefully.  
  
"That'll do for now," he muttered. Pepper looked around; the dust was thinner here, or perhaps her eyes had been too caked for her to see properly before. There were people nearby, some covered in debris, some not, some being treated by people in uniform or in civilian clothes.  
  
"Where am I?" she whispered. Tony sat down next to her and took her hand.  
  
"Not far from Central Park," he told her. "We were almost at Trump's when it happened. I jumped out of the car and started walking toward the - the scene, figuring you'd head this way if you could."  
  
"The scene," she repeated stupidly. "The scene of what?"  
  
"The World Trade Center," he said. "A plane, two planes, crashed into the towers. One's on fire - the other - the other just collapsed. That was the dust cloud."  
  
"Collapsed?"  
  
They stared at each other, her hand tightening on his.  
  
"Come on," he said, and pulled her to her feet.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"To Trump's."


	2. Tuesday, September 11, 2001 - New York City

Pepper staggered onward, tethered to Tony's hand, and the strength and warmth of it sustained her. Just as they reached the doors of Trump Tower another peal of destructive thunder reached their ears and they turned together to see yet another sea of fire and dust sinking and rolling downward. As it began to clear, their eyes searched in vain for the remaining tower and found only debris-laden sky.  
  
Tony turned to look at Pepper; her tears had begun again, clearing rivers down her red face. Before either of them could start thinking too much, Tony heaved the doors open, dragged his PA into the lobby and addressed the concierge, who stood staring woodenly out of the glass.  
  
"We're going back up," said Tony. "Up to the penthouse. In case anyone wants to know where we are."  
  
The man blinked at Tony, who lost his temper and grabbed the guy's lapel.  
  
"Do you hear me? Tony Stark, Virginia Potts, we're guests of Mr. Trump. Got it?"  
  
"Yes - yes, sir," said the concierge, tore himself from the spot and wandered back to his desk.  
  
Tony and Pepper headed for the elevators, where Tony punched in a code that would pass them up to the penthouse; when they got there the place was empty.  
  
"Usually there's a doorman," muttered Tony. "Or a maid, or something. I bet he let everyone go home."  
  
There was a note scrawled across a sheet of paper next to the telephone. It read: "Tony - hope you made it. I'm off to help my people find their families. Stay, or take any car you want." It was signed "Donald".  
  
"Shit," said Tony. He let go of Pepper's hand and fell in a heap on the couch. Pepper stood, swaying, not even able to decide whether to sit down or lie down, or just wait until she fell down. She lifted her eyes and found herself looking out the window toward the columns of smoke darkening the sky over Manhattan.  
  
"It wasn't an accident, was it?" she said suddenly.  
  
"I don't think so," said Tony, sitting with his head in his hands, not looking. "There were two planes. One might have been an accident, but two - it was deliberate."  
  
"Why?" she whispered. "Why would anyone do that?"  
  
The enormity of the devastation had become personal; it was no longer only a tragedy, but unimaginably vicious murder. Pepper forced herself to look away and said, "I need to pee."  
  
She needed to throw up, to cry, to lose consciousness, but first she absolutely had to pee.  
  
"In there," said Tony, pointing down a hall, and she made it before her stomach heaved violently and gave up its little content. She fulfilled her original mission, washed out her mouth, washed her face and hands, refusing to look in the mirror, and went back out to where Tony now stood staring at the same scene she had faced.  
  
Pepper kicked off her shoes and went over to stand beside her boss, looking at him, not out the window. Without turning his head, he said, "I was sure you were dead."  
  
"What?" she whispered.  
  
"All hell was breaking loose behind us, and I knew it had to be close to the hotel, and I didn't know whether you'd left or not," he gulped, words pouring out of him like tears. "And I got out of the car and started back, and thought I saw you, then it *was* you, and I have never been so - "  
  
Pepper felt a spark of life in her gut. She had only worked for him for six months; admittedly he was responsible for her as her employer, but this kind of emotion he didn't spend on just anyone. He cared about her, if only as a soul whose life he had brought to this pass.  
  
"Mr. Stark - "  
  
"Tony," he said and turned to her. His eyes were full of tears that did not fall and they wrapped their arms around each other in grief and confusion and Pepper wailed into his shoulder.  
  
When she felt empty enough, she drew back and said, "I bet there's a shower here."  
  
"You oughta see it," said Tony, snapping back into life-of-the-party mode. "Come on in here - I'll raid around and see if I can find you something else to wear."  
  
It was a palatial bathroom. Pepper took a shower and wrapped herself in a thick robe she found on a hook. When she emerged she found Tony in what looked like a guest room, rummaging through the closet.  
  
"Here you go," he said, tossing clothes at her. "Must be Ivana's cast-offs."  
  
"Nice cast-offs," Pepper mused as she picked items up off the bed where they'd fallen. She didn't suppose there was a washer and dryer in this place, and she wasn't sure she wanted her own clothes back anyway, so she went back in the bathroom, shut the door, and donned the brightly colored jogging pants and tee. When she came back out Tony had vanished again and Pepper was drawn inevitably to the giant bed. She lay her sore body down on it and felt like she never wanted to move again...  
  
When she woke, the sun was setting and for a minute she forgot what day it was or where she was or what she was doing. Then she turned her head and saw her boss curled up at the opposite edge of the bed in a neat ball, arms folded over his stomach, in the same clothes she'd seen him in earlier. She cleared her throat softly and his eyes opened.  
  
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he said. "Am I allowed to call you that, or is that harassment?"  
  
She just smiled a little and said, "I think we're off duty. What's going on?"  
  
Tony sat up and stretched. "I called Obadiah to let him know we were both okay," he told her. "He said he'd have someone call your mom. I noticed you didn't have your phone on you."  
  
"Or anything else. My bag got lost in the stampede." Pepper wasn't sure she wanted to talk to her mom just now, or anyone else - the little bubble she and Tony were moving in felt safe enough without any outside contact. Addressing her most important issue, she asked, "Is there anything to eat?"  
  
"Let's go raid the fridge."  
  
They dug up some sandwich fixings and pasta; there was caviar and champagne, but as it didn't seem time for a celebration they passed it up. Tony washed his food down with a beer and Pepper with lots of water, and afterward they sat on the couch in the guest room, where the windows did not overlook the smoking ruins, and talked about what to do next.  
  
"I watched a little news while you were out," said Tony. "All air traffic has been halted indefinitely. We can get a ferry out of Manhattan, but I don't know where we should go from there, unless you want to drive all the way to California."  
  
Pepper looked at him thoughtfully and finally said, "Why not?"  
  
Tony looked a little taken aback. "Really?"  
  
"Are you surprised?"  
  
"I thought, I don't know, that maybe you'd want to stay put for a while. We've got a nice refuge here, even if The Donald doesn't come back any time soon."  
  
"No," she said, suddenly sure of herself. "I want to go home. What about you?"  
  
"I thought about sticking around, maybe helping out," Tony said slowly. "But I don't know what I could possibly do. I think my money would go a long way, but I wouldn't be much use. And maybe I'm selfish, but - I want to go home, too."  
  
"Have you heard from Mr. Trump?"  
  
"No, and I don't expect to. He did say to take any car - think I'll go chat with the valet," said Tony, getting up. Pepper rose as well and he said, "Why don't you stay here and scope out supplies?"  
  
She bit her lip and said, "I'd rather not be alone just now, Mr. Stark."  
  
Comprehension flashed in his eyes and he squeezed her hand briefly before letting it go.  
  
"Okay then," he said. "And it's Tony."  
  
The valet wasn't there, understandably; the building seemed nearly deserted, its denizens either hunkered down in their own rooms or departed to help or find others. They went back to the lobby, where the concierge was making phone calls and directing traffic as one of the ballrooms had been drafted as a shelter.  
  
"Any chance we could get keys for a car in the garage?" Tony asked the man when there was a brief pause.  
  
"Mr. Stark, right?" The concierge had apparently gotten past his previously frozen state and was ready for action. Digging a keyring out of his pocket he said, "This'll open the valet booth, but don't let anyone catch you. I don't want a riot on my hands, cars stolen, you know?"  
  
"You bet," said Tony. "Coming, Potts?"  
  
"Actually, I think I'll stay here for a bit," Pepper said, "with - Ray?" she added, reading his name plate.  
  
"No problem," said Ray. "You can sit here, or feel free to go in the main ballroom if you want to pitch in." He looked down at her kindly. "Although I understand if you'd rather not."  
  
Pepper smiled faintly and found a seat behind the front desk, out of Ray's way. After only half an hour Tony reappeared with a grin on his face and Ray's keys in his hand.  
  
"Thanks a lot," he said to the concierge. "I'm going to borrow one of Mr. Trump's cars tomorrow morning, try to get back to California. I'll square it with him, all right?"  
  
"If you say so," said Ray, pocketing the keys. "I know who you are, sir, and I trust you'll do it."  
  
Tony saluted and held out his hand to Pepper. "You want to stay down here, or come back upstairs?" he asked.  
  
"Stay with you," she said, yawning, then blushed. "That came out wrong - "  
  
"Nah," said Tony. "Don't worry about it. I have no designs on you, Miss Potts - not at the moment, anyway - I would never take advantage of a lady in distress."  
  
She blushed more deeply. When they got to the penthouse once more, she said, "I think I want to sleep some more. Do you need me to do anything more, Mr. Stark?"  
  
"That will be all, Miss Potts." Her boss smiled and made a shooing motion toward the guest bedroom and Pepper departed gratefully to pursue oblivion.


	3. Wednesday, September 12, 2001 – New York City to Pittsburgh, PA

Pepper didn't really sleep well, and the next morning she was confronted in the mirror by a pale facsimile of herself, complete with dark circles under her eyes and miscellaneous bruises elsewhere. She had slept in her borrowed clothes, so after washing up a bit she went looking for her companion.  
  
She came across him, stretched out on the couch, asleep with the TV off and an arm flung over his face. Pepper went into the kitchen and rummaged for breakfast, found bagels and cream cheese and eggs and coffee. She fixed a plate for herself and one for her boss; when she set it on the low table beside him he took a deep breath and sighed.  
  
"Coffee," he murmured. "And - cream cheese?" His eyes opened and he sat up like a dog answering a whistle. "Thanks, Potts. At least we're well stocked here. Real New York bagels."  
  
"When do you want to leave?" said Pepper as Tony munched and drank. He shrugged.  
  
"We should check to be sure the ferries are running," she went on, picking up the phone. There was no dial tone and she asked, "Do you have any reception on your cell?"  
  
Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Nope," he said. "Not unexpectedly. We could watch the news and wait for a report. Or try the radio?"  
  
"Actually, do you know where Mr. Trump would keep a computer?" Pepper didn't want a wide-screen view of the devastation.  
  
They poked around into other rooms and found locked cabinets and drawers; then Tony turned up a PC in a small, bare office. He booted it up and said, "I don't know how you're going to get internet when the phone service is - hey!" as he opened a browser and the CNN site came up with current news.  
  
"I figured he of all people would have state of the art cabling, probably fiber optics," said Pepper, typing in a search as she sat down in front of the machine. Tony watched as she flicked through various pages until she found a site with transportation information, then opened another window to the Coast Guard site. He left her scanning and scribbling notes and went to look for supplies for their road trip.  
  
Eventually Pepper emerged with a look of grim satisfaction.  
  
"There's a car ferry from West 44th Street, not far," she said. "One of the last services taking cars at all. If you want to drive, that's where we have to go. Do you have any cash on you?"  
  
"Yep," said Tony. "I had a wad ready for a day out with Donald. Still safe." He hauled several trash-sized bags up on the counter. "I couldn't find anything as mundane as a cooler or a grocery bag. This'll have to do."  
  
Pepper thought for a moment, then went back into the guest room. She had passed the point of being in awe of her surroundings, and when she found a nice set of matched Samsonite in the closet, she carted it out to the kitchen without a qualm.  
  
"This should do for now," she said. Tony stared at her and laughed.  
  
"Damn, Miss Potts. I don't think I'm paying you enough. Come on, let's load up."  
  
They loaded a medium-sized suitcase full of food and drink, and a smaller one with some more of Ivana's clothes. Pepper added a couple of rolls of toilet paper ("You never know") and two flashlights she found under the kitchen sink, after checking to be sure they worked.  
  
"Do you think they'll mind if I take a change of clothes?" asked Pepper as they surveyed their luggage.  
  
"She won't even miss 'em," Tony predicted. "Me, on the other hand, there's no way I'm fitting Donald's wardrobe. Maybe I should try on some of Ivana's."  
  
"Only if you want people to think Tony Stark has gone back to the disco era," his PA retorted. "Peacock blue isn't really your color."  
  
"Thanks for noticing," Tony grinned, then added as she blushed, "Say what you think, Potts. I've told you that before. If you get too rude I'll let you know. Right now I'm not your boss, I'm just some schmuck you landed up with in the aftermath. Okay?"  
  
Pepper knew she'd never see him as such, but she nodded and heaved a sigh and sat down, just for a moment, on the couch.  
  
"I'm gonna go take a quick shower, then we're outta here, okay?" said Tony. Pepper nodded again and let her head rest on the back of the couch.  
  
Fifteen minutes later she swam into consciousness to the sound of Tony's voice.  
  
"Hey, I hate to wake you, Potts, but I think we need to get the heck out of Dodge."  
  
She sat up and blinked.  
  
"Come on, Red, you can sleep in the car," he said and held out his hand.  
  
She got up without taking it and through a yawn told him, "Not Red. You can call me Pepper, or even Virginia, but not Red, okay?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. So can we go now? Miss Potts?"  
  
She took the smaller suitcase and Tony the larger one, and they took the elevator down to the garage level and emerged into semidarkness. The valet booth was still closed; Tony pulled out a keychain and pressed the alarm button, and a nearby vehicle flashed its headlights briefly. They headed over and stuck the suitcases in the trunk.  
  
"A Mercedes," said Pepper. "Going in style, are we?"  
  
"Trump doesn't drive cheap," snorted Tony. "A Mercedes SLK, tank full, all the leg room you could want." He handed her in the passenger side as though they were on a date, slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Smooth, huh?"  
  
"Smooth," she agreed. "How are we going to get out of the garage?"  
  
"Remote on the visor," he replied, and as they neared the gate he pressed said remote and the gate rose, permitting their exit. It went down behind them and Pepper had a sudden sense of vulnerability. She curled up in her seat, as far from the window as possible; her driver appeared not to notice but kept up a running commentary as he talked back to the GPS unit and grumbled about New York drivers.  
  
At last they lined up for the ferry, which seemed to be taking more passengers than vehicles. Usually there was a charge, but when at last they made it to the entrance the attendant just waved them on along with all the other cars.  
  
"Guess it's still Good Samaritan season," said Tony as they rolled into place and he switched off the engine.  
  
"What do you mean?" said Pepper.  
  
"It's like after a big earthquake in California," he said, gazing out the window at nothing. "People will go out of their way for you, bend over backward, for a while, after a disaster. Eventually they go back to business as usual and there's no free lunch any more."  
  
Pepper wondered how he would know that, as he'd probably never had to work to survive, then banished that thought as unworthy. He's spoiled and blessed, she thought, but a good man.  
  
The short ferry ride was uneventful and they slowly made their way out of the city. Pepper rummaged around and found a map of the US that looked like it had never been opened, along with a few other AAA maps; she unfolded the country map and asked Tony, "Have you ever driven across country before?"  
  
"Coupla times. In college, for fun. A long vacation with my family, boring. You?"  
  
"No, I never had a reason or the patience. Or a car that would have made it the whole way." She smiled to herself, perusing the map. "Do you have an idea which route you're going to take?"  
  
"Why, you wanna navigate?" Tony grinned. "We have GPS for that. Although I should spring for an upgrade for Trump; this thing is at least two years old."  
  
"No," said Pepper. "I just like maps. I want to follow along and see what's coming too."  
  
"Well, then, if we drive straight on we can make Indianapolis by nightfall. I think."  
  
"Do you want me to drive some of the way?"  
  
Tony hesitated, then said, "Truth? The only time I tolerate being driven is when Hogan's taking me somewhere in the limo. I'd rather drive the whole way, if you don't mind."  
  
Pepper smiled and shook her head. "I don't mind. I appreciate it."  
  
She settled in with her head on her hand, gazing out the window, and Tony just drove. She didn't ask any questions about what they were passing, didn't say anything until somewhere around Altoona, when Tony stopped for fuel and a pit stop. Pepper stirred and got out of the car as if in a daze, went to the ladies' room, came out and wandered around the convenience store until the clerk behind the counter said, "I see you got a New York license plate."  
  
She paid no attention until he repeated himself, then realized he was talking to her.  
  
"Oh, yes," she said. "The car belongs to - a friend. I'm not from New York, myself."  
  
"Did you just come from there?"  
  
Pepper walked over near the counter. The man was middle-aged and the name on his shirt matched that of the station; she wondered if he were the owner.  
  
"Yes, we did," she said, afraid of what he might ask her next. He studied her for a moment.  
  
"You okay?" he said then, and her lips wobbled a bit before she lifted her chin.  
  
"I just need to go home."  
  
He gave her a smile, just as Tony came in to pay for the gas. "Everything OK, Potts?" he asked, seeing the look on Pepper's face.  
  
"Fine," she said, a little shakily. "Mr - "  
  
"Max," said the attendant as he rang up the charge. "I own the place. I was just asking her the same thing. How far is home for you two?"  
  
"California," Tony answered, when Pepper seemed unable to speak further. "We were in New York on business, can't fly back."  
  
"Damn terrorists," Max scowled, adding to Pepper, "You'll be okay, sweetheart. You're still standing, that's the tough part."  
  
As Pepper went back to the car, Tony lingered to ask tentatively, "Did you know - was there anyone - "  
  
"Did I lose anyone there yesterday?" the man finished for him. "No. Thank God. My son's a firefighter, stationed in Brooklyn - he came home two days ago for a couple of weeks' leave. His mother's got her hands full trying to keep him from going back there to help." He shook his head. "I'd go myself if I thought I'd do any good."  
  
"Yeah," said Tony. "I know. Good to hear, though."  
  
He thanked the man and went back out to the car. Pepper was buckled up, her seat reclined, her eyes closed, and Tony let her alone.


	4. Wednesday, September 12, 2001 – Pittsburgh, PA

He decided to take the first day easy and went only as far as Pittsburgh. Pepper had fallen into a doze, but when they got to city streets around dinnertime she stirred and looked around. before she could ask, Tony said, "Pittsburgh, PA. Next stop, the Renaissance. Please return your seat backs and tray tables to their full and upright position and extinguish all smoking materials."  
  
She smiled faintly at him and blinked at the map. "Are we stopping here, then?"  
  
"Yep. Thought I'd keep it short this first leg. Have you ever been to Pittsburgh, Miss Potts?"  
  
"No, but the Andy Warhol Museum is here. I've always wanted to see it."  
  
"We could - " Tony began, but she shook her head.  
  
"Not this time. It - doesn't seem right, somehow."  
  
"See, that's one thing we do differently," said Tony, trying to sound detached. "When I'm faced with something really serious or important, I look for distraction."  
  
Pepper already knew this about her boss; she was beginning to find out just how varied and barely legal some of his distractions were.  
  
"Although Warhol wouldn't do it for me," he went on. Following the GPS' directions, he pulled up in front of an old but beautifully kept hotel, obviously a landmark, and Pepper tried not to stare as a valet came round and took the car keys from Tony and opened her door for her.  
  
"The Renaissance?" she murmured. Tony took her hand and strode nonchalantly into the lobby, wandered up to the concierge.  
  
"Mr. Stark," said that lady. "What a pleasant surprise. Will you need a room for the night?" She kept her eyes on Tony and Pepper got an annoying impression that the woman had dismissed her as one of Tony's bimbos.  
  
Pepper didn't have a BlackBerry to whip out, and she was wearing a borrowed, rumpled jogging suit, but she straightened up and caught the concierge's eye and said briskly, "Mr. Stark and I will require separate rooms, one night, please. King beds, I'll need a high-speed internet workstation, and Mr. Stark would like access to the adult cable programming. Oh, and the key to the bar, please."  
  
The concierge blinked. Tony looked blandly at her, as if to say, "Well?" but what came out of his mouth was, "Allow me to introduce my personal assistant, Virginia Potts. Please take any requests from her as you would from me."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Stark." Her eyes flickered from Pepper to Tony and back. "Welcome, Ms. Potts. Do either of you have any luggage?"  
  
"There are three suitcases in the trunk of our car," replied Pepper and gave the license plate number. "If you'll have them brought up I'll sort them out. And we'd like rooms as close to the ground floor as possible."  
  
The woman gave her an odd glance. "Will there be anything else at the moment, Ms. Potts?"  
  
Tony had wandered off to amble around the lobby.  
  
"That will be all, for now, thank you," said Pepper in her most professional tone, and the concierge nodded and stepped away to code their room keys. Tony came up to stand next to her, leaning on the counter.  
  
"That's something, watching you snap into PA mode," he told her. "*I* wouldn't mess with you."  
  
Pepper smiled a little grimly.  
  
"I thought it best to head off any little misconceptions that might arise," she said.  
  
Tony blinked. "Misconceptions?"  
  
"Misconceptions. As to my status, in regard to the notoriously...festive Tony Stark."  
  
"You think she thought that you were..." Tony frowned.  
  
"For a guy who's always running The Babe Channel in the back of his mind, you're pretty clueless about regular women," Pepper blurted, then blushed. Tony grimaced.  
  
"I like to have a good time, sure, but..."  
  
The concierge returned with their key cards and told them the staff were retrieving their luggage, and Tony thanked her and escorted Pepper to their second-floor rooms.  
  
"I know you're probably used to the penthouse," said Pepper, "but this time..."  
  
She faltered, as if reminded of the reason for their situation, and Tony took her arm and guided her into his own room and shut the door. She sat down on the bed looking lost and tired.  
  
"Hey," said Tony. "What you want is dinner. Come on, let's look at the room service menu."  
  
He prattled on as he found the menu and sat down beside her, and eventually she took a look and nodded or shook her head at his suggestions. It was all so surreal, being in a luxury hotel with Tony Stark and ordering anything she wanted from room service...This was her first business trip accompanying him and it was all so new, and then you throw a terrorist attack into the mix...  
  
"I want to see a newspaper," she said suddenly and got up, just as a knock came on the door. Tony went over and opened it and a bellhop came in with their suitcases.  
  
"Can we get today's newspaper?" Tony asked the guy, who said, "Certainly, sir. Which paper would you like?"  
  
"The Post-Gazette?" Tony guessed with a look at Pepper, who nodded. "And the New York Times, if you have it."  
  
"I'll bring them right up."  
  
Tony thanked him and tipped him; he turned to see Pepper opening the suitcases. The one with food in it they set aside; Pepper took the smaller one, which held more of Ivana's clothes, and left to go across the hall to her own room.  
  
"You need anything, just holler," said Tony. "I mean it. You're looking a little - frail, Potts."  
  
"I am," she said simply. "And thanks."  
  
She closed her door quietly and Tony grabbed his wallet and room key and headed for the elevators.


	5. Wednesday, September 12, 2001 – Pittsburgh, PA

When Pepper had finished washing up and putting on clean clothes, she stood looking out the window for a while, watching the sun sink and the commuters passing by. Idly she noticed there was an Old Navy and a Victoria's Secret down the street, in what looked like a shopping area; she made a note to get herself some underwear before they left town. Even if their trip only took four days, she was certainly entitled to some replacement lingerie, she thought.  
  
She'd stood there for some time before she realized how hungry she was, and she buzzed Tony's room to see whether he'd placed their order. No answer. She opened her door and found the two newspapers lying outside Tony's door; she took them into her room and dove into reading them. They hadn't been watching TV or listening to the radio; Pepper didn't think she could stand seeing moving images or hearing the voices of the survivors, but print seemed safe enough.  
  
Until she turned a page and saw a photo, surrounded by text, and heard herself burst into tears.  
  
There was a pounding on her door and she jumped up and cried out, inexplicably frightened; then she heard a voice shouting her name between poundings and she went over to open the door. When Tony came barreling through it, she stepped back, shrinking, against the wall.  
  
Tony spun around and spotted her there. Coming over cautiously, he held his hands out to her as he had in the park, but she covered her sobbing mouth with one hand and pointed with the other, at the newspaper sprawled out on the bed, at the image that had kicked her in the stomach. Tony closed the door quietly and went to look at the paper. His jaw and fists clenched, he grabbed the page, seemed about to crush it, then carefully put it back and folded the newspaper up again, tossing it back on the bed.  
  
He came back over to Pepper and said softly, "You saw them, didn't you?"  
  
It had been a photograph of a body falling from the ruin of one of the towers.  
  
She nodded, her eyes huge and wet, both hands over her mouth now. Tony took her shoulders and pulled her in gently, wrapping his arms around her as she wilted against his chest.  
  
"I can't imagine," he whispered harshly. "Can't imagine what you've been through - what anyone's been through - but I'm here, Potts. I'll do what I can."  
  
Her arms finally moved, stealing around his neck as she wept into his shoulder, and he held her as tightly as he could and felt as though she were doing the crying for both of them. After an eternity, Pepper began to relax and wipe her eyes on her sleeve, and Tony leaned back a little, hands on her waist.  
  
"That's gotta be some kind of a record," he said in mock amazement, calling on his usual irreverent sense of humor to change the mood.  
  
"What?" said Pepper, reaching for a box of tissue. Tony stepped back and folded his arms, looking smug.  
  
"I think that's the longest I've had my arms around a woman without trying to get in a kiss or an ass grab."  
  
Pepper laughed through her tears. "I don't know whether to be impressed or disappointed."  
  
"Both," said Tony. "Come on over to my place - I got food and some other stuff we're going to need."  
  
Contrary to his habit, he'd ordered an ordinary meal - meat and potatoes, salad, wine - "comfort food", he called it. Pepper felt almost too tired to eat, but she knew she needed to and kept the fork moving. The wine helped somewhat.  
  
"Save some room for dessert, Potts," said her host, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed with his plate. "You like tiramisu, right?"  
  
Pepper was surprised he knew that and said as much.  
  
"At the Christmas party," he grinned, "you sneaked a second piece. I made a note of it because I knew someday I was going to have to get back on your good side."  
  
"Mr. Stark - "  
  
"Tony. I'm going to start dinging your paycheck every time you call me Mr. Stark."  
  
"Tony - I'm your PA. Getting on my good side is irrelevant. I work for you, remember?"  
  
"And after seeing you spring into action downstairs, I'm glad you're on my side," he replied. He decided not to spoil their emerging camaraderie with descriptions of ways he'd alienated previous PAs.  
  
Pepper just smiled and finished her dinner, and Tony passed her a dish of tiramisu. She took a large bite and almost choked.  
  
"Damn, that's a lot of rum," she reported as Tony patted her on the back.  
  
"Medicinal," he said and downed a sizeable bite of his own dessert.  
  
When they were finished with dessert, Tony flopped back on the bed and stretched extensively.  
  
"Man, that was good. I feel like I could sleep for a week, now that I'm full."  
  
"Me, too," said Pepper. The wine and the rum had made her slightly lightheaded and she didn't feel like getting up to go across the hall, so she lounged in the armchair and gazed absently at her boss, sprawled out on the bed like a cat. He was wearing a dark polo shirt and black jeans and had taken off his shoes and socks; his hair was standing on end as though he'd been pulling at it. Pepper noticed scrapes and bruises on his hands and forearms and wondered what he'd been up to, besides rescuing her. Maybe building something in that mysterious basement workshop she'd heard he had.  
  
He turned his head and caught her looking. Without his habitual smirk, his face looked kind, a soft mouth, determined chin, thick lashes over eyes that belonged in an Italian Renaissance painting, brown as chocolate syrup and just as liquid. Pepper blinked and felt herself blushing, and covered her confusion by asking, "What's in the shopping bags?"  
  
Tony sat up, following her gaze to the bags he'd brought up with him, and grinned.  
  
"Presents," he said, bounded off the bed, and swept up two of the bags to hand to her. One was from Macy's and the other bore the distinctive Victoria's Secret pink stripes.  
  
She threw Tony a look, but he just raised his eyebrows and waited. Reaching into the Macy's bag, Pepper retrieved a pair of shoes - not her signature heels, but a practical pair of black walking shoes. Only a half size larger than she wore, too.  
  
"Thank you," she said, sincerely. "I feel a little squeamish about wearing other people's shoes. Even Ivana Trump's."  
  
"Yeah, well, in that case you're gonna love the other stuff even more."  
  
He watched in delight as Pepper fished around in the pink striped bag, pulled up a corner of fabric and blushed up to her hairline.  
  
"Mr. - Tony. You shouldn't have."  
  
"Come on, Potts. You don't want me watching you walk around commando, do you? Thinking the thoughts I usually think? Consider it a preventive measure."  
  
Pepper couldn't help giggling. She emptied the bag of its contents - half a dozen pair of brightly colored cotton panties, and a red night shirt with cats on it.  
  
"I hope you don't expect me to model these for you," she teased. "They look like the right size."  
  
"If you feel it necessary - "  
  
"That will be all, Mr. Stark." She gave him a repressive look, little knowing how useful it would be over the next several years, and stuffed the garments back in the bag, trying not to speculate on just how he'd estimated the size she'd wear. "Didn't you get yourself anything?"  
  
"Oh, sure. Some socks and underwear, a couple of shirts, a pair of pants. These smell like - like ash."  
  
Pepper, who had thrown away every bit of clothing she'd been wearing on Tuesday, understood. "If you leave your clothes in the laundry bag and hang it on your door, they'll wash them and bring them up tomorrow morning," she said.  
  
"What would I do without you, Potts?" said her boss.  
  
"Wear the same stinky clothes all the way to California?" she muttered, putting her new shoes back in their bag. When she looked around, she realized Tony was stripping off his clothes, had already tossed his shirt on the bed, and was reaching for his fly.  
  
"Mr. Stark!" she said, a little more sharply than she'd intended. Tony stopped in mid-strip; his hands had pulled the fly open and he was poised to push the pants down and he just stared at her.  
  
"Whoops," he said after a moment. "Sorry. Forgot where I was, present company, all that." He yanked the pants back up but didn't zip, and Pepper took hold of the doorknob to the hallway.  
  
Turning her head, but not looking at him, she said in a softer tone, "Thanks so much for the - presents."  
  
"You're very welcome, Miss Potts. Sweet dreams."  
  
She could hear the sound of denim hitting the floor as she closed the door behind her.


	6. Thursday, September 13, 2001 – Pittsburgh, PA to St. Louis, MO

In the morning, Pepper showered and dressed - the underwear fit perfectly - stuffed her few other items in the small case, and went over to knock on Tony's door. There was no answer and after a moment she knocked again, more sharply.  
  
"Mr. Stark?"  
  
Third time was a charm; she heard grumbling, feet hitting the floor, the bolt being pushed back, and the door opened to reveal her boss, blinking sleepily, with a hotel robe thrown around himself.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Pepper. "I didn't mean to wake you up."  
  
Wordlessly, Tony took her hand and pulled her into the room, shut the door, sat on the bed and peered at the clock on the nightstand. Nine a.m. Pepper thought that was a reasonable hour. Apparently her companion thought otherwise. He rubbed a hand over his bristly face and said in a deeper baritone than usual, "Coffee. Please."  
  
"Of course, Mr. Stark."  
  
Pepper always appreciated having something to do. She called room service and ordered breakfast; when she hung up and turned to check on Tony he had burrowed back under the covers and pulled them up over his head. She sat down in a nearby chair and booted up the computer that had been provided in each of their rooms.  
  
By the time the coffee (and other food items) arrived, Pepper had plotted the next leg of their trip, and Tony's soft breathing had evened out in a sleep-like pattern. Pepper poured a cup of coffee, put in some sugar, and set it on the nightstand. Then she lifted the sheet off Tony's face, folding it back, so he could smell the coffee. Just like the day before, his nose alerted the rest of his body and his eyes opened hopefully.  
  
"Miss Potts, you are a saint," he said fervently. Sitting up, he took the cup and slurped some coffee, savoring it as if it had saved his life, and reached to pat Pepper's hand as he took a second swig. Pepper's hand was not there, however, and Tony looked up to see his PA back in her chair, studying something she'd printed out with great interest.  
  
"You okay, Potts?"  
  
"Fine, thanks. I'm just looking at the best route to take today."  
  
"Something bothering you? Did I drool in my sleep?" He swiped a hand over his mouth. "Nope, pretty tidy. Potts, are you blushing?"  
  
"The coffee's hot - it makes me flush."  
  
"You're not drinking coffee."  
  
Pepper glanced up; he was grinning. She figured she'd better address this recurring...issue.  
  
"Mr. Stark, I'm no prude, and I understand that you're quite comfortable without clothing, but I'd like to request that you take care to cover yourself decently when I'm present."  
  
Tony stared for a moment. "Whaddaya mean? I'm decent."  
  
"You're naked," Pepper blurted. "Aren't you?"  
  
He had flung off the bathrobe before diving under the covers; the robe lay on the floor next to the bed, and Pepper had noticed it just before he'd sat up and the sheet had slipped down to his waist - revealing nothing but skin on the way down. She had to admit, though only to herself, that Tony Stark was a handsome, well-built man, well worth ogling when possible. But she worked for him. She had to keep telling herself that, in order to avoid becoming an office bimbo and/or losing her job.  
  
She repeated it to herself again as she let her eyes roam over his well-toned torso. He had folded up his legs under the sheet and went on drinking coffee and watching her. Finally he said, "I think I'm ready for something solid," and took hold of the sheet. Pepper looked at him calmly. He paused, as if to call her bluff, and when she didn't move he flung the sheet back and stood up. In a new pair of briefs, which he'd obviously gotten at Macy's the night before.  
  
Tony looked at Pepper. Pepper looked at Tony - in the eye, not daring to let her gaze stray downward. Then they both burst out laughing.  
  
"Touche, Miss Potts," said Tony. "I'm not as crude as the rumors say. I know how to behave when I'm around a lady." He grabbed the bathrobe off the floor and padded over to the tray of food. "Did you leave me any donuts?"  
  
They bundled themselves back in the car and headed for St. Louis, Missouri, six hundred miles away.  
  
Stopping for lunch south of Springfield, Ohio, they were once again the object of curiosity to the locals. They were at a roadside diner, the kind Tony missed eating in since he'd become so recognizable. He dug into the various fried and home-baked food items as though he wouldn't be eating again in days; the waitress kept his glass filled with Coke and chatted with Pepper.  
  
"Came from New York, did you?" she asked. Pepper was getting used to this - a little.  
  
"We're on our way to California," she said amiably. "Couldn't get a flight."  
  
"I wouldn't fly for a million dollars right now, anyway," said the woman. "And believe you me, the airlines'll make up for the shutdown later on. Raise fares, charge fees, you name it."  
  
Pepper thought that would be understandable, business-wise, but she didn't say so.  
  
"Makes me think there's something to staying where God planted you," their waitress went on. "I've only ever been as far as Chicago, for my honeymoon. The rest of the world I can see on the tube."  
  
"That sounds very - safe," said Pepper. The word felt unfamiliar in her mouth. Tony glanced up, having caught something in her tone, and gulped down some Coke.  
  
"Can I get some of those onion rings to go?" he asked. "And a cheeseburger?"  
  
"Doesn't she feed you enough?" snorted the waitress. Flashing Pepper a grin, she departed toward the grill and Tony chuckled.  
  
"Another case of mistaken identity," he muttered. "It's refreshing, in a surreal kind of way."  
  
"It is surreal, isn't it," said Pepper, gazing out the window. "I can almost imagine that the past few days never happened, that we're just two people on a road trip."  
  
A few minutes passed before she realized Tony had made no reply, and she stirred from her reverie to find he was contemplating her, chin on hand. She blushed and said briskly, "May I have an advance on my next paycheck, Mr. Stark?"  
  
"Huh? What for?"  
  
"I see a clothing store a block away," Pepper said, nodding in that direction. "I want to buy something that'll fit me, something less toasty than a jogging suit."  
  
Tony gave her a hundred dollars from the stash he kept in his pocket, then insisted on accompanying her into the store.  
  
"It's either that, or I get to lean on a lamppost and ogle you through the window," he said. "Either way, I'm not letting you out of my sight."  
  
"Suit yourself," said Pepper. "But if they have fitting rooms, you are not coming in with me."  
  
The store was a typical one-level department store, and the name on it was "Goodwill Industries".  
  
"Potts, you're shopping at a thrift store?"  
  
Tony knew that had been a mistake as soon as it was out of his mouth. She didn't look so much offended as...well, furious. And rightfully so.  
  
"I will refrain from commenting on the insensitivity of that remark," she said coolly. "As well as the obvious observation about people born with silver spoons in their mouths, who have never had to watch their budget. Excuse me."  
  
Tony thought it best to remain on the sidewalk, not ogling, not even peering through the store window. After fifteen minutes, Pepper emerged, looking taller in a pair of tight jeans and brown boots with a dark brown, soft oxford shirt to go with them. She swung a bag in her hand as she pointedly handed Tony back more than half the amount of his "loan". He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head.  
  
"Consider it a bonus," he told her. "You deserve it after that crack of mine. Besides, I don't like to think of you wandering around without any money on you."  
  
"Now you sound like my dad," said his PA, but she smiled and tucked the change in the back pocket of the jeans.


	7. Thursday, September 13, 2001 – St. Louis, MO

They made it as far as St. Louis that night and stayed at the Four Seasons. This was turning out to be an education for Pepper, a crash course in dealing with hotel personnel and protocols. Her boss stood back and observed and she hoped she was doing well.  
  
One of the outfits she'd bought at the thrift store was a standard little black dress, suitable for either meetings or business meals, and in St. Louis she and Tony had dinner in the restaurant downstairs. Tony wore a button-down oxford and had borrowed a tie from the establishment, and he looked presentable enough. It helped that he was who he was. Pepper was beginning to feel slightly more amused than intimidated by the nearly universal recognition of her escort, although she didn't expect to ever be completely used to it.  
  
Dinner was magnificent and the wine excellent, and Pepper went ahead and drank a bit more than she usually did. After all, she wasn't driving on this trip, Tony certainly didn't need a chaperon, and she was just going back to her room anyway.  
  
"Going so soon, Potts?" asked Tony when she lay down her napkin and pushed back her chair. "The night is young."  
  
"Yes, it is," she said. "And it's almost bedtime on the West Coast, so I'm going to make some phone calls."  
  
Tony rose to walk her to the elevators, saying, "Just promise me they won't be business calls."  
  
"Why, Mr. Stark, are you worried about me?" she teased. "Do I have a curfew now?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Please. I'm the least qualified person on the planet to enforce anyone's curfew. Just get some rest, okay? You're in charge of morale and brilliant conversation on this trip."  
  
When the elevator doors opened and Pepper got in, she turned and said, "You're not coming up?"  
  
"Why, do *I* have a curfew now?" he grinned. "Sleep tight, Miss Potts."  
  
The doors slid shut and Pepper laughed.  
  
She wasn't laughing in the small hours of the morning, when there was banging and yelling in the hallway. Even in a place like the Four Seasons the walls couldn't keep out all sound, and from the sound of it some of the guests were bringing their party upstairs. The noise came closer: laughter, curses, heavy stumbling, and finally something that sounded like someone had run into a wall in the corridor. Well, they'd pass out soon enough, she thought, and she had learned over the last few days that her boss was nearly impossible to awaken.  
  
Then she realized the noise had stopped outside her door. Did they have the wrong room? She wasn't worried about intruders - she'd bolted the door - but she dreaded a scene.  
  
"Key, key, where's your key, baby?" crooned a woman's voice, over the giggling of her escort.  
  
"Try my pocket. Not that one...mmm, yeah, *that* one..."  
  
Pepper froze. The giggling resumed, then a crow of triumph from the female. "Got it! No, honey, over here - the next one down - "  
  
A hand had rattled her door handle, then it desisted and there were sounds of fumbling at the next door, to the room next to hers. Pepper sat up in bed, torn between wanting to block out the sound and wanting to verify her suspicions. The door slammed, but the voices were still fairly audible.  
  
"Tony! Give me that - you devil - "  
  
"You want it, come get it, baby," came the man's reply. "It'll cost you."  
  
"I can afford it..." More laughing, then the man again, closer, probably just on the other side of the wall:  
  
"Here, hold this, will you? no, no, not with your hand, sweet thing...with your mouth...oh, God..."  
  
Pepper made a mental note to buy earplugs at the next stop, and moved across the room to sleep on the spacious sofa.


	8. Friday, September 14, 2001 – St. Louis, MO to Springfield, MO

In the morning Pepper did not go to Mr. Stark's room as she had the day before. Instead, she repacked her belongings and went downstairs for breakfast, checking out of her room first and leaving her case at the desk. She enjoyed a large, leisurely meal and skimmed the newspaper, steeling herself to the photos of destruction and skimming headlines for those that seemed the least emotionally charged. It was a quick read.  
  
An hour after she had left her room, her boss appeared, standing beside her with half-open eyes and a pout.  
  
"You didn't wake me up, Potts," he said, dropping into the chair across from her. "No coffee? No donuts?"  
  
"I didn't want to intrude." Pepper smiled at the waiter, who had noticed Tony's slumped posture and come over with fresh coffee.  
  
Tony shot the man a grateful look and gulped the hot drink, then went on, "Intrude? You were quick enough to intrude yesterday when I was half-dressed..."  
  
"Not on you," said Pepper, with the air of someone spelling something out. "On your guest. Your visitor."  
  
"My - Oh. Shit." Tony swallowed more coffee and reached for the toast. "She didn't stay. Not long. A couple of hours. Did we disturb you?"  
  
He didn't sound embarrassed, but he didn't sound as nonchalant as usual, either. Pepper replied, "It seems our beds were located on a shared wall."  
  
"Oh, shit," he repeated, but at least he had the grace to look chastened and the good sense to shut up until the waiter came to take his breakfast order. That done, Tony turned to Pepper again, seeming to steel himself for a lecture.  
  
"I don't make any promises about my - nocturnal activities, Miss Potts - "  
  
"You don't have to. I know exactly how you are with girls, and it's completely okay."  
  
"But I do apologize for disturbing your peace, and I'll be sure to take measures to avoid doing so in the future." Then he blinked and said, "Completely okay?"  
  
"Well, I knew what I was getting into when I accepted this job, Mr. Stark," said Pepper coolly. "Your reputation precedes, accompanies, and follows you. As long as you don't expect me to join in the 'activities', I have no comment regarding them."  
  
"I think I can live with that," Tony said with apparent relief and attacked his breakfast.  
  
Miraculously, or perhaps through long practice, Tony showed no signs of a hangover, so Pepper approved him to continue driving. They settled into the car and Tony said, "Where to, boss?"  
  
"Today, the Stark and Potts Road Show will shoot for Amarillo, Texas. Take route 44 west, young man."  
  
Tony grinned, as he was the older of the two, and turned on the radio. A bit of searching turned up an oldies station that was running preprogrammed music, thus not carrying as many reports on the attacks. He and Pepper seemed to have tacitly agreed to limit the amount of news they took in, at least while they were together, in spite of the fact that Tony expected military demand for his product to skyrocket. Obie would handle that until he got home.  
  
The miles rolled behind them and nearly three hours had passed before a song jogged a particular memory in Tony's brain.  
  
 _If you ever plan to motor west_  
  
Take my way, that's the highway that's the best  
  
Get your kicks on Route 66  
  
"Perfect, huh?" he said to Pepper, who was doing a crossword puzzle from the morning paper. She looked up and frowned.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Route 66. We're on Route 66."  
  
"No, we're not, did you take a wrong turn?" She scrambled for the map and Tony laughed, then stared alternately at her and at the highway.  
  
"The old Route 66. The first highway to run from Chicago to L.A." He sang along with the tune for a bit, then said incredulously, "You've never heard of Route 66?"  
  
"I knew there was a song, but - you're kidding, right?"  
  
"Nope, take a look." Tony gestured at a black and white shield that flew past on the side of the road, the words "Historic Route 66" emblazoned on it. "This is officially Interstate 44, but originally it was part of 66. In fact - when are we going to pass through Springfield?"  
  
Pepper's eyes perused the map. "In about another forty miles."  
  
"Springfield is considered the 'birthplace' of Route 66. We'll stop there for lunch."


	9. Friday, September 14, 2001 – Springfield, MO to Oklahoma City

When they reached Springfield, Tony kept peering at the sides of the road until he said, "Aha!", drove a little further and parked off the road. He ran around to open Pepper's door, and as she got out of the car he indicated with a grand gesture a marker on the side of the road.  
  
"Historic Missouri Route 66," he said, as proud as if he'd invented it. "This is where the builders set up the plans for the road, in Springfield. Further on there's a preserved section of the original road, two lanes and a yellow stripe is all..."  
  
Tony prattled on as he handed Pepper back into her seat, got in, and gunned the motor. After showing her the otherwise unremarkable bit of pavement, at which she thanked him for enlightening her, they went over to a place called Steak'n'Shake, where Pepper shook her head ruefully.  
  
"I'm going to put on ten pounds on this trip," she muttered.  
  
"I'll just be sure to run you more ragged when we get back," Tony promised. "Besides, they do have salads, see?"  
  
When they were back in the car, Pepper spent a little time just watching her boss drive. He hadn't shaved in three days and the shadow that clung to his cheek and jaw made him look a bit older. It was a good look on him - could be a little smoother, maybe a goatee, maybe it would get some of their older colleagues to take him more seriously.  
  
He slouched in the driver's seat like a man in a familiar saddle; obviously cars were one of his passions, as evinced by his collection as well as his knowledge of Americana like Route 66. They had been exceeding the speed limits for days now and never got caught; Pepper guessed that law enforcement had better things to do than run down speeders at this point.  
  
She had read in the morning paper about the hunt that was starting for the group responsible for the destruction in New York City. She'd also read with horror the stories of people being shot down by civilians, people whose only fault was being Arabic in appearance. She wondered why a person or group would want to demolish the skyscrapers; she could understand hitting the Pentagon or even the White House, as some had proposed was the plan. She was trying desperately to consider the event as analytically as possible. She was losing the battle.  
  
Tony looked over to find Pepper watching him and she saw his double take. "What?" she said. "Do I have ketchup on my face?"  
  
"No," he said quietly. His hand reached out to touch her cheek and she saw her own tears on his fingers when he drew them away.  
  
"You know what?" he said after a while. "I don't think we need to get as far as Amarillo today. How does Oklahoma City sound?"  
  
Tony was obviously a traveler with taste; they pulled up to the Colcord Hotel, which proved to be 14 stories of historical architecture near downtown. As Tony came round the car and handed the keys to the valet, Pepper said curiously, "How do you know about all these local treasures?" At his blank look, she added, "Boutique hotels? Not your everyday luxury hotel chain."  
  
Tony smiled a little. "Whenever my dad went anywhere - and he was away a lot - he'd send postcards and hotel letterhead from wherever he was staying. He liked local color."  
  
"So when you travel, you go by his recommendations?" said Pepper.  
  
"Yeah, and you know what? I agree with him 90% of the time."  
  
They went in and booked two rooms; this time Pepper unobtrusively made sure her room was across the hall from Tony's, not adjacent. Tony was chatting up one of the desk clerks, and when Pepper concluded her business he came up to her with a somber expression.  
  
"Listen, Potts, we should make an early night of it, huh? Get a good start tomorrow morning, see if we can get all the way to Flagstaff."  
  
"You go ahead," said Pepper. "I'm going for a walk."  
  
"Walk? Where? I can drive you - "  
  
"No, it's close by. And I want to walk there."  
  
"I'll go with you."  
  
"It's a free country," she said, a little repressively, but of course her boss was nothing if not irrepressible. He stuck his hands in his pockets and fell in beside Pepper as she exited the hotel and turned left.  
  
"Where are we headed?" he asked after a minute or two.  
  
"You know," she said, not looking at him.  
  
"Nope. No idea."  
  
Tony was a pretty good liar, but he was beginning to find out that Pepper's lie detecting gene was pretty sharp. She stopped, put her hands on her hips, and gave him a look that plainly expressed her disbelief.  
  
"Okay," he admitted. "I can guess. Now tell me why?"  
  
They resumed walking. Pepper shook her head. "I don't know, Tony. I think I need to be around...people."  
  
"I'm people."  
  
"You're one person. And I mean, people who have lived through...this..."  
  
She bit her lip. Tony shut up and took her hand as they walked for another ten minutes, north, then over one street and further north, and arrived in front of a stark black wall of stone, with these words engraved on it over a rectangular opening:  
  
"We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever. May all who leave here know the impact of violence. May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity."  
  
They stopped and looked up at the words in silence for a few minutes. Tony became aware of people around them, not boisterous as one might expect for a Saturday evening crowd, but quiet, moving with purpose in the same direction as he and Pepper. She tugged on his hand and they crossed the street.  
  
"It was dedicated in February," Pepper told him. They entered the parklike area where the Murrah Building had once stood, and immediately Tony noticed the hush over the grass and stone and water. He felt as though he were in a church.  
  
The two of them, along with hundreds of other humans, stood and turned and let their eyes soak up everything around them: carved names, graffiti left by rescuers, the pool, the empty chairs. Child-sized handprints on a smaller wall. And the spot that seemed to draw people together was a large tree, north of the pool, under which people were milling about or sitting, praying, speaking softly.  
  
Tony felt a stab of something like panic strike him. He dropped Pepper's hand, and as she turned to look at him he blurted, "I can't. This - I guess I *don't* need to be around people. Not this way."  
  
Pepper's expression was one of sympathy rather than censure.  
  
"It's okay," she said quietly. "Everybody's different. I need this, Tony."  
  
"I get it," he said. "Whatever you need to do, Pepper. Really."  
  
"So - I'll see you back at the hotel?"  
  
"Of course. Just - do me a favor and knock on my door when you get in, okay? I don't want you wandering around here at night, no matter how many Good Samaritans are here."  
  
She smiled gently and reached to squeeze his hand briefly, then turned to join the crowd of mourners.  
  
It was close to midnight when Pepper, wrung out but strangely comforted, left the memorial grounds the same way she had come in. The lights on the reflecting pool gave the park an ethereal glow, and in that glow, as she neared the western gate, she saw a dark figure standing up from where it had been sitting on the grass nearby, and coming toward her. She was not surprised when she managed to make out his features; she went over and kissed his cheek and took his hand, and they walked back to the hotel together.


	10. Saturday, September 15, 2001 – Oklahoma City to Albuquerque, NM

Tony was not a morning person; this had been established even before their impromptu road trip. Pepper had begun to enjoy putting the hours before noon to good use, getting meetings scheduled, lining up PR opps, organizing official paperwork for Tony to see or sign. Once he was up and about, it was a challenge keeping track of him, but before then she had a little breathing space.  
  
Today, he was up and about before Pepper, as evidenced by the phone ringing at 9 A.M. next to her bed. Her heart rate skyrocketed and she sprang into a sitting position and grabbed the obnoxious device.  
  
"Hello?" she practically gasped.  
  
"Is that you, Potts?" came the voice of her boss. "Hope I'm not interrupting anybody. I mean, anything."  
  
"What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?" asked Pepper, trying to breathe deeply.  
  
"On the contrary, there's something I can do for you. If you wouldn't mind dropping by my room after you've made yourself presentable - although I'm sure you're already quite - "  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Stark," she said quickly. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."  
  
Fifteen minutes later, she knocked on Tony's door and found both Tony and breakfast waiting for her.  
  
"Thank God for room service," he said, pouring her a cup of coffee as she sat at the little table and served herself. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Pretty well," said Pepper, a little warily, wondering where this bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Tony had come from. "You?"  
  
"Didn't sleep," he shrugged. "I couldn't get my brain to shut up, so I used the Internet connection to look up some stuff." He caught her eye and grinned. "Not *that* kind of stuff. Stuff like the rest of our road trip...specs on the stuff we've been distributing to the troops recently...I wanted to see what they might need more of."  
  
"More of - " Pepper frowned momentarily, then recalled what kind of company she worked for. Trying to keep the sudden bitterness out of her tone, she said, "So you think there'll be a counterattack."  
  
"Of course," Tony said. "That's how America does it. I just hope we can find the bastards. Al-Qaeda has training camps in Afghanistan, and it's notorious for impossible terrain and uncooperative government." Seeing Pepper's bleak expression, he changed the subject. "Anyway, today's destination will be Albuquerque, New Mexico. Land of Enchantment."  
  
"Okay," she said. "What's in Albuquerque?"  
  
She had bought one of those gold tour guide books and read to him from it as they traveled. Pepper had always thought this part of the country was flat, deserted, and featureless, but was happy to be proven wrong.  
  
When they got into Albuquerque, Pepper assumed they'd head for a hotel, though it was still early, but Tony turned off and headed south of town.  
  
"Where are we going?" asked his co-pilot, fishing for the map. "Downtown is that way."  
  
"This way is Eclipse Aviation," Tony replied. "Makers of VLJs, or very light jets. The stuff they build is so light, some of 'em don't even have a toilet - they carry very little fuel and go short distances. I do business with them sometimes when I want to play with unmanned aircraft ideas."  
  
He pulled into a lot next to a nondescript building and an airfield, and they got out and went inside.  
  
"Is Vern here?" Tony asked the woman at the front desk.  
  
"He's at lunch," she said, a little suspiciously. "Can I help you, sir?"  
  
"I know what that means," said Tony, giving her his best confidential grin. "He's eating at his desk. Would you tell him Tony's here to see him, please? Tony Stark. And Ms. Potts, my assistant."  
  
The woman still looked dubious, but Pepper figured that being the first line of defense was part of her job. She smiled winningly, and the woman picked up the phone.  
  
"Mr. Raburn? I'm sorry to disturb you - there's a gentleman here to see you, Mr. Tony Stark." A pause, then, "Very well, sir." She hung up and seemed about to say something, when a door off the reception area was flung open and a middle-aged man came through it.  
  
"Tony! How the hell are you? About time you came by. And Miss - Potts? Good to meet you. What brings you out here to the boonies, Stark?"  
  
As he talked he was leading both of them down a hall and into an office almost as large as Tony's, with a plate glass window looking out onto a landing area. There were several small planes parked on it.  
  
"You want lunch? I can order something in."  
  
"No, we're good," said Tony as he and Pepper settled into two easy chairs across from Vern's desk. "We ate an hour ago. We're on our way back to California - from New York."  
  
"Shoot," said Vern, and his face fell. "Were you there when - ?"  
  
"We were," said Tony. "Too close for comfort. Miss Potts was only blocks away."  
  
Vern gazed sympathetically at Pepper. "I'm sorry to hear it," he said. "You're both okay, right? No injuries?"  
  
"We're okay," said Pepper quietly. "Thanks for asking. Was there anyone you know, back there?"  
  
"No," said their host. "Almost all my operations are here or in the northwest."  
  
"Vern started his career in Seattle," Tony began, but Vern snorted.  
  
"Redmond," he corrected. "Redmond, Washington. Microsoft. Always wanted to mess with airplanes, though, so I got out of computer tech and into aeronautics."  
  
"Tony says you design jet planes," Pepper said.  
  
"Very light jets. I'm hoping the military will be able to use some of our designs to build unmanned drones - cut down on casualties, expenses, you know."  
  
He and Tony talked shop for a bit. Pepper wandered around looking at the drawings and art on the walls and strewn over a drafting table nearby. It seemed odd, listening to real people talking about planes and machines and devices that could be used to kill real people, face to face or from the air. Tony's comment about retaliation was brutally pragmatic. He wasn't a war profiteer, she told herself, any more than Mr. Raburn; he was a businessman.  
  
It was his line of business, his stock in trade, that had suddenly risen to the forefront of American industry.  
  
She caught herself shivering a little and turned to speak to Tony.  
  
"Mr. Stark - do you mind if I go sit in the car for a bit? I feel like I need a nap," she said apologetically.  
  
"Hey, don't let me keep you folks," said Vern, standing up at the same time as Tony. "I know how just sitting in a moving vehicle day after day can give you car lag. Weird, but true."  
  
"Right," Tony grinned. "Well, I'll call you next week, Vern, after we get back to California and I've reconnoitered with my people."  
  
"I'm looking forward to it. Nice meeting you, Miss Potts."  
  
They shook hands all around, and Tony and Pepper went back to the car. As he opened the door for her, he asked, "You okay, Potts?"  
  
"I'm fine," she said, getting in. "I just - want to zone for a while, lie down maybe. Make the world go away."  
  
"I have just the thing," he said.  
  
They found a venerable and well-renovated hotel, La Posada de Albuquerque, and Pepper booked a suite with two bedrooms.  
  
"Trying to keep tabs on me, Potts?" Tony asked as they went up to their suite.  
  
"The hotel was renovated in 1985," she replied blandly. "Their wiring hasn't been updated completely yet; the suites are the only rooms with high-speed Internet access."  
  
He looked a bit chagrined, but perked up when he saw that the room also had a big comfy couch and a large-screen television.  
  
"All the comforts of home," he sighed, stretching out on the couch and picking up the TV remote. Pepper smiled indulgently and went into her room to stow her stuff. When she came back out, Tony had landed on a sports channel.  
  
"I'm going to try to nap," she said. "But I have earplugs, so don't worry about making noise." She didn't mention that she had bought them the day after Tony and his "guest" had kept her awake.  
  
"Sleep tight," said Tony, his eyes on the screen and his finger on the remote.  



	11. Saturday, September 15, 2001 – Albuquerque, NM

Pepper awoke to the sound of a mighty throat-clearing, obviously not a first attempt; she stirred and opened her eyes and tried to focus on the figure sitting on the edge of her bed.  
  
"What?" she said fuzzily, then realized she had the earplugs in and removed them. Tony grinned.  
  
"What time is it?" she asked.  
  
"Six p.m. You've slept for more than three hours, you're going to mess up your circadian rhythm."  
  
"Thank you for your concern," she said with only a hint of sarcasm. "Why are you waking me up, really?"  
  
"Do you like baseball, Potts?" he asked.  
  
"Sure, doesn't everyone?" Pepper sat up and yawned. "I thought they'd suspended the season."  
  
"First game is tonight, in St. Louis. Cards vs. Brewers. Starts in half an hour. I ordered in pizza and beer and I can't possibly watch this game by myself."  
  
Pepper had long known that Tony Stark was a silver-tongued devil, but it was the prospect of pizza, beer, and something resembling a normal activity that got her up. Tony disappeared and while she was washing up, Pepper reflected that he could have just gone down to the bar if he wanted company. Nice of him to think of her - and she wouldn't read anything more into it.  
  
Tony had ordered three different kinds of pizza, along with the beer and nachos and a six-pack of diet soda - "so I can watch your girlish figure", he teased Pepper. She grinned and loaded a plate and parked on the couch, just as the broadcast began.  
  
There was a local choir singing the national anthem. Not unexpectedly, Pepper felt tears sting her eyes. Then an elderly man in a bright red jacket took the podium and began to read a poem he had written for the occasion.  
  
"Jack Buck?" she said. "Who is he?"  
  
"He was the Cardinals' announcer for ages," Tony said soberly. "He's like one of the voices of baseball."  
  
The poem was heart wrenching on its own...then the camera shifted to show rows of law enforcement personnel, and fans in red, white, and blue. Pepper's vision blurred and she felt tears spill over her cheeks; blinking hard, she glanced over at Tony and saw him sitting with clenched jaw and shining eyes.  
  
 _"War is just not our nature_

_We won't start ... but we will end the fight_

_If we are involved, we shall be resolved_

_To protect what we know is right_

_We have been challenged by a cowardly foe_

_Who strikes and then hides from our view_

_With one voice we say, 'There is no choice today,_

_There is only one thing to do'"_  
  
There it was again - the connection between what had happened, what was going to happen, and what part Stark Industries would inevitably play therein. Pepper had known when she first started working for SI exactly what the company's specialty was - though she tended to focus more on its other, more humanitarian scientific accomplishments. She was good at her job, so good that calling the boss on a clerical error hadn't fazed her, much.  
  
And here she was. Part of the military-industrial complex, as the pundits called it. For some reason, the thought shocked her and she shivered - then felt a gentle hand on her arm.  
  
"Hey," said Tony. "It's okay, Potts. We're safe."  
  
"For now," she blurted, then the tears came harder and she went on, "We're going to end up destroying each other, all this hate, misunderstanding, revenge...where does it end?"  
  
She glared at him as though he personally were to blame for the destruction. Tony took her hand and returned her gaze.  
  
"I don't know, Potts," he said evenly. "But if the tools we make help protect and defend the people who go after the bad guys, and even take them out, then I'm proud to be part of that. I understand you might be feeling like a cog in the machine, and maybe you're reconsidering who you work for. All I ask is that you reserve judgment until you see how this all plays out."  
  
Judgment?  
  
"Not you," she muttered. "I'm not judging you, Tony. I hardly know you. I'm just - afraid. Of what comes next, who I might lose - how my life is going to change."  
  
Tony scooted closer and put his arm around her shoulder, gave her a squeeze.  
  
"I know. And you can't do anything about it. I hate that, too."  
  
"And I'm not reconsidering...I still want to work for you - for SI."  
  
"Good, 'cause Obie thinks I need a keeper." Tony grinned and gestured at the TV with his beer bottle. "Hey, look, batter up. One thing that never changes, American baseball."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find links to Jack Buck's poem as well as video of it on YouTube and at mlb [dot] com.


	12. Sunday, September 16, 2001 – Albuquerque, NM to Needles, CA

The next morning they were back in the car; it was becoming surreal, throwing their bags into the trunk, filling the gas tank, Pepper settling in with a map, a paper or a crossword puzzle, Tony going on auto-pilot mentally until Pepper gave him a heads up on directions.  
  
Probably for the best, thought Pepper as the edges of Albuquerque trickled away and they were once more surrounded by desert. Normally she detested monotony, but the last several days of forced repetition had almost seemed comforting. She didn't have to think about where she was going, what she was doing.  
  
She often wondered what her boss was thinking about as the miles rolled by. The first day or so after the disaster they'd seemed to blurt out whatever came to mind; she remembered feeling vulnerable and needy. Now she felt - kind of numb. They didn't talk as much, and when they did it was about mundane things like cars or music or what their college experiences had been like.  
  
"Headed for the barn," Tony said suddenly, and Pepper blinked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The last leg. Coming down the home stretch. You know," he said. "It's only about eight hundred miles from Albuquerque to Malibu. We can make it in one long shot."  
  
"Only if you let me do some driving," Pepper told him, but he shook his head.  
  
"Nope. It's all narrow roads through the mountains once you get to the California border, and we'll have to do it in the dark. Nuh-uh, Potts, I'm the pilot on this shuttle. You can just sleep until we get there."  
  
"With you taking the turns at eighty miles an hour?" she snorted. "Hopped up on Red Bull and donuts? I don't think so."  
  
"It's never failed me yet."  
  
"Well, I don't want the first time to be in the dark on a winding road at eighty miles an hour," Pepper said firmly. "Come on, Tony. Just one more stop tonight."  
  
"We'll see where we are then," he said, but she knew what Tony Stark was like when he got an idea in his head.  
  
She was right, too. They arrived in Needles, California, around nightfall, after dipping south from Kingman, Arizona in order to stay on their historic route, then north again just over the state line. Tony took the first main exit and pulled up in a convenience store lot.  
  
"I'm ready for some chow, Potts," he said, getting out of the car and stretching until Pepper could hear his joints pop. "Whaddaya think? The Hungry Bear? Jack in the Box? Or just some Red Bull and donuts at the gas station?"  
  
Pepper chose to ignore the last suggestion.  
  
"The Wagon Wheel," she said, pointing. "Right over there."  
  
"Really?" Tony followed her gesture to a brown and yellow sprawling building a block or two away. "Potts, your eyesight is incredible."  
  
"I looked it up in the Triple-A guidebook," she told him and started to walk in that direction.  
  
"You know," said Tony, falling in beside her, "you really are shaping up to be the best PA I've ever had."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Well, shoot, to start with, you know where to eat in Needles. You know how to pack and make a quick getaway. You're low maintenance."  
  
"Anyone who does a little homework could do the same," said Pepper, but her lips were curled in a slight smile.  
  
"So you're good at homework," Tony went on. "I don't like having to deal with minutiae. Except when it comes to engineering, I like to have someone to whom I can say, 'Arrange this, please,' and know that it'll be ready when I need it. You have no idea how rare that is."  
  
"How many PAs have you employed?" Pepper carefully avoided the use of the word "had"; God only knew what he might read into that.  
  
"Before you? At least one a year. They were good enough at assisting, but as you're finding out, what I need is someone to anticipate. You're practically clairvoyant. Or do I mean telepathic?"  
  
"I hope not," she replied as he opened the door of the Wagon Wheel. "With all due respect, I'd rather not know what's in your head, Mr. Stark."  
  
He grinned.  
  
"After you, Miss Potts."


	13. Sunday, September 16, 2001 – Needles, CA to Malibu, CA

The world was spinning. No, sloshing, really. No, actually it was heaving.  
  
Pepper's mouth opened, and fortunately, the only thing that emerged was a thin, dry whimper.  
  
"Potts? Are you conscious?"  
  
She was trying to remember what qualified as consciousness when the world slowed to a blessed standstill and cool plastic was placed against her lips. Water trickled over her tongue and she swallowed once, then the container was lifted away and she groaned, wanting more.  
  
"Uh-uh," said the same voice. Male, young, coming from in front and slightly to her left. "No more water until I know you can keep this down."  
  
She let her head fall back on whatever she was seated in, while her ears registered car doors closing and a shift of weight beside her.  
  
"Hey, Potts. Still alive?" The voice was closer, beside her on her right.  
  
"What," she croaked. With an effort, she lifted her hands to her cheeks, trying to keep her head from weaving. She felt a hand on top of her head, stroking her hair, and she opened one eye to see who was rendering aid. Tony. Mr. Stark. Sitting beside her in the back seat of the Mercedes.  
  
"What the hell," she muttered, closing her eye again.  
  
"I was gonna ask you that," Tony said. "What the hell were you thinking?"  
  
"When?"  
  
"Last night."  
  
Oh God, thought Pepper. What was I doing last night, and with whom? Had something happened between her and -  
  
She got both eyes open and turned her head, carefully, to look at him as he went on.  
  
"I thought you were the responsible adult on this trip," he said. "I'm gone for ten minutes talking to Obie on the phone and when I come back - "  
  
"Where?" she said faintly.  
  
"To the Wagon Wheel. Where we had dinner, and you said you'd use the ladies' room while I called Obie. You don't remember?"  
  
"Don't say 'dinner'," whispered Pepper, taking the water bottle from him.  
  
"We did a couple of shots of tequila at the bar, waiting for a table, and then you had wine with dinner...and I went to call Obie, and when I came back you were back at the bar with a bunch of locals."  
  
"Tequila...and wine..."  
  
"And you were in the process of following it up with more tequila," Tony went on, relentlessly. "That's when I remembered that you hadn't had that much to eat, which explained why you had rashly agreed to some kind of drinking game with a couple of guys."  
  
Pepper closed her eyes again, waiting for the punch line.  
  
"And when I told you it was time to go, they wouldn't let you...they said it was none of my business and let the lady decide and all that b.s. Which wouldn't have stopped me, except that you agreed with them."  
  
"What!" Her own exclamation caused her skull to ring with pain.  
  
"Yeah, you told me to take a hike." Tony was grinning, though. "Your exact words, Potts."  
  
"Oh...shit."  
  
"My exact words."  
  
"So when...how...?"  
  
"Well, I made them an offer."  
  
"I'm afraid to ask."  
  
"I said I'd draw cards for you. They win, you stay and finish the game. I win, I get to haul you out to the car and ride off into the sunset, which had already occurred, by the way."  
  
"Did you win?"  
  
"Well...not really."  
  
"Not..." Pepper's eyes flew open and she peered out the window of a car, barely able to see the matte gray pavement and the line down the center of the road. They were parked on the shoulder, with the motor off.  
  
"I did haul you out to the car," he told her. "After I lost the draw, you had two more shots and then threw up, and after that, the guys didn't want to play any more."  
  
"Oh, God," she moaned, slumping back in the seat.  
  
"Hey, at least you made it to the bathroom in time. Just barely."  
  
"Oh, God," she moaned, louder.  
  
"Mainly because I was carrying you."  
  
"Oh, GOD," she almost wailed. A pair of strong arms were wrapped around her, and she let her head fall on his shoulder.  
  
"It's okay, Potts. Really. Seriously, it's the least I could do, after all the crap I've put you through in just six months."  
  
"But that's - that's - not me," she said, lamely, having narrowly avoided pointing out who was usually the one with the hangover. "How can you respect me after seeing that?"  
  
"Pepper, since my parents died, there are only three people in this world that I respect: Obadiah, Jim Rhodes, and you. A little upchucking isn't going to even make a dent in that, not for me."  
  
What Tony didn't tell her was that respecting someone who happened to be a woman was a rare experience for him. He liked women, loved sex, recognized that being female didn't make one automatically a bimbo. But to respect a woman without any sexual context - he'd found he wanted to preserve this new kind of friendship. If he could figure out how.  
  
Pepper fumbled for a tissue box among the detritus in the back seat, wiped her face, and finished off the water in the bottle. Then she got out of the car, asking, "Where are we?" as Tony got out to stand with her.  
  
"Well, I figured we'd better get the heck out of Dodge, so I got back on the road after you looked reasonably seaworthy. We're somewhere between Victorville and Hesperia."  
  
The stars were thicker here, where man-made light was sparse. Pepper stood gazing up at them for several minutes. Tony leaned on the car and stood gazing at her. Finally she sighed and went around to get back in the car, in the front this time.  
  
"Let me clear that off - " said Tony hastily, grabbing a grocery bag that had torn open on the passenger seat. Pepper caught a glimpse of its contents. Red Bull and donuts, beef jerky, more bottled water, and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.  
  
"Help yourself," Tony said with a grin.  
  
"I don't think I'm ready for beef jerky," she shuddered, buckling up. "And I think it's too late for a stomach remedy."  
  
"Wait, I got you these." Tony reached back and pulled out a box of graham crackers. "Is this more your speed?"  
  
Her smile was fond.  
  
"My mom always gave me graham crackers and ginger ale when I was sick," he told her, starting the car. "I don't know if they did any good. But I always *thought* they made me feel better."


	14. May 1, 2011 - W Hotel, Manhattan, overlooking the 9/11 Memorial site

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before I knew anything about Stark Tower as depicted in the 2012 Avengers film, which is why they're at the W Hotel instead.

Pepper switched off the television and sat for a minute in the darkness. Not quite darkness - New York City was never completely dark, and the illumination wasn't all coming from neighboring high-rises.  
  
Tony stood, hands in pockets, at the window where he'd been rooted for the past thirty minutes, listening to the broadcast of the President's speech that Pepper had been watching. She went to stand beside him and he immediately put an arm out, to draw her to his side.  
  
Wordlessly they looked down on the angular maze of construction and clearance at street level. Two square plots surrounded by chain link fence, and an ocean of humanity swarming around them, flashlights, lighters, cell phones aloft, and a muffled whooping and roaring that they could hear faintly through the windows in the silent room high above.  
  
At last, Pepper lifted her head from Tony's shoulder and asked, "Did you know about this?"  
  
He nodded, slowly, and took a deep breath.  
  
"I knew it was in the works," he told her. "Not the date or time or even the place - though I did some reconnaissance over that area, last year."  
  
"Was - Rhodey there?"  
  
"Nope. It was strictly a SEAL operation. What little I knew I got from him, and when he's that tight with intelligence, you know it's need to know."  
  
He looked down at her and smiled a little.  
  
"They didn't - you weren't," Pepper began.  
  
"No," he said. "I wasn't involved in the least. And that's fine. Iron Man is way too flashy for a covert mission - and I wouldn't have wanted it, anyway. They've been hunting him for so long, it was their intelligence, their chase, and their kill."  
  
They watched the surging, shouting crowd for a few minutes.  
  
"Remember the last day of that trip?" said Pepper after a while.  
  
"What, the morning you woke up with a hangover worthy of - "  
  
Pepper's elbow in his ribs effectively doused Tony's comment.  
  
"The morning we came over the mountains with the sun behind us, just rising, and the ocean in the distance? And we stopped to get out of the car?"  
  
"Yeah, I remember," Tony said in a more subdued tone. "And you said that the world had changed, even though everything looked the same."  
  
There was another long silence.  
  
"I feel a little like that, right now," she said at last. "Not as big a change, this time. But still. A little bit of good change."  
  
Tony kissed the top of her head and said, "You remember where that road trip began."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"We stood and looked out the window of Trump's penthouse, you and me," he went on. "And all we had was each other, and we got home together. You might say it was our first mission as a team."  
  
Pepper smiled up at him. "But not our last."  
  
"Oh, definitely not our last," he murmured and bent to kiss her lips. "For better, or for worse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus endeth the story. But obviously, not the memories or hopes or grief. Thanks for letting this bit of imagination into your world. If you know a member of the armed forces, a first responder, or someone who risks their lives for others in other ways, please take a moment to tell him or her how much that means to you.


End file.
